Shadows
by Sivan IXXX
Summary: It's the year 1870. A young maiden from the streets of France moves to London in hopes of escaping the rage of her father, and to investigate the disappearance of her sister. The clues lead her to the Kenway estate, and into the high society of England. What awaits her isn't privilege, prestige and wealth, but rather quite the opposite. Genre will change. Connorline AU.
1. Prologue

**A/N: Hey guys! Here is the prologue to Shadows. It might be a little choppy, so forgive me. I haven't written anything in a while, so I may be a bit rusty.**

**Also: Most of the characters in this story will be both from ACIII and AC:Liberation. Those who aren't familiar belong to me and are purely original.**

**And the beginning is written in English, but the conversation is in French, thus why it's written in italics.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Ubisoft, so please don't sue.**

**And please don't forget to review; I would really appreciate your feedback.**

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><p><strong>The Kenway Estate, 1870<strong>

_"You must be new to London. Where are you from?" _the stagecoach asked. The shy, young Frenchwoman could hardly look up into his face, though he meant no harm in asking her such a question._ "Come now, don't be shy." _His heavy English accent made her cringe inside, but his handsome countenance put her at ease, just a little.

_"...Paris." _He snapped the reigns, and the wooden carriage lurched forward. The young woman adjusted her shawl on her shoulders; the air was much less forgiving than back home.

_"Ah, the rumored city of love, yes? I've always wanted to visit it someday. They say that Paris has a way of drawing star-crossed lovers together under the strangest of circumstances." _He looked to her for affirmation, and she politely shrugged her shoulders. _"London must be a big change from where you're from. The clouds are always grey here, and we never have to worry about rain, because it's guaranteed eight months out of the year,"_ he joked. When he realized she didn't find it funny, his smile faded, and he turned his eyes back to the cobblestone road.

London was certainly different. Everyone was so...gray, and dull. Perhaps the dreary weather made everyone look washed out like a worn garment.

_"What's your name?"_ he attempted to resurrect the conversation. The sudden sound of his voice interrupted her train of thought, and she had to think for a moment.

_"Aveline. Aveline de Grandpré."_

_"That's a pleasant name. It rolls right off the tongue. My name is Gerald Blanc. I was raised in Lyon."_ The horse whinnied, and she trained her eyes to the road ahead of them.

The streets were crowded and bustling with life. What seemed to be the heart of London was marked with tall, stately buildings made of brick. The large clock that she had only heard rumors of stood by itself. Its large hand passed the twelve, and it rang eight times, its chime ringing loudly in the air. A train whistled nearby; she hadn't noticed the station until it did. Just as in Calais*, there were fruit stands lining the streets, ports brimming with large wooden crates and goods from overseas wrapped tight under canvas and thick rope. It seemed city living didn't change, no matter where one went.

_"We're almost to the Kenway estate. Do you know anything about your employer?"_

_"No. I only know that my sister worked for them."_

_"Then perhaps I should inform you of their history. Master Haytham Kenway is the owner of the estate; he inherited it from his father, Edward James Kenway, who passed some time ago. He is a master shipbuilder, and he worked closely with the British Royal Navy until he fell seriously ill. His wife, Madame Kanetthio, is a Native from the Americas. She was brought here when Master Kenway received word that she was with child. Their son, Connor, will one day be the inheritor of all his property and earnings since he is the only child. Now, **he** is an interesting character."_

_"Why?"_ she asked. If she were to be dealing with a silly little boy while attempting to complete her job under the watchful gaze of the Master of the house, then he would be a problem.

_"He adapted to the customs of living in the wealthy class of London quite well. Despite his physical appearance, if one were to speak to him with their back turned, they would think he was an English gentleman. However, he uses his words like an American, and that is what makes him interesting. He spent such a short time in the United States, but he brought back so many of their ways. It puzzles the older ones, but the younger generations worship him."_

_"How is he so well-known?"_

_"First and foremost, his father's name gives him access to every single dinner party and social event that the rich arrange. He even attended the knighting of Sir George Young, the warden of Scotland Yard. And the women, of course, do not turn a blind eye to the young lad."_

Aveline said no more, but rather, began to anticipate the teenage terror that would be awaiting her at the Kenway estate, perhaps lurking around a corner with a frog, or a rope to trip her feet.

Sighing gently, she smoothed down the loose curl dancing about her face. It was too late to turn back; she had made her choice, and she couldn't run anymore.

What must have been the Kenway estate lay before her, and she tried her best to remain composure. Despite the fact that it was in a bustling metropolis, the enormous knoll before her reminded her of the French countryside. The flowers in the small courtyard were well-maintained, and the fountain was carved into the shape of a woman in a loose robe holding a small orb in her hand. The stairs were elaborately carved out of stone, and the mansion itself was made of the same type of rock, though the numerous window panes were made of wood.

The wicked, pointed roofs of the main sections of the house seemed a bit intimidating, but the Gothic design also intrigued her.

_"The first visit to the Kenway mansion always leave strangers in awe,"_ he chuckled, pulling the horse to a gentle stop._ "The late Master Edward paid to have this plot of land cleared so that this home could be built for his family and all the generations to follow. But we don't have time to stare in awe. It's best to get you acquainted with the others."_ He stepped down onto the rocky ground and extended his hand to her to steady her footing. She grabbed what meager possessions she had in her bag and took his assistance before following him up the stairs.

Aveline was very nervous for many reasons: she was alone in a city she didn't know, her employer sounded quite intimidating, and...

She didn't know much English and certainly not enough to hold a conversation. She wondered how Hélène fared, and if she ever learned English well enough to speak it fluently. _"I'm sure the Kenways will not expect you to know English right away, so I will do my best to be around when there's something you don't understand_," he assured her with a warm smile. Aveline felt a wave of relief wash over her.

_"Thank you very much, Gerald.__"_ The moment he opened the door, they were met with frenzied activity. There were at least a dozen women hurrying in either direction of the hallway, some carrying tablecloths, others balancing silverware and fine china in their hands.

_"I failed to inform you that they are having a gathering of friends tonight, so every single maid and manservant are on duty right now. Once you've met the family, Missus Ingleton will give you your assignment." _As they ascended the stairs and walked down the hallways, she admired the paintings on the wine-colored walls, some of shiny-coat dogs and horses, and others of lush landscapes and forests of far away. Yet, there were also a few of a handsome yellow-haired man with a proud set of his jaw and deep blue eyes that penetrated the soul. Perhaps that was Master Haytham. And there were others of a distinctly attractive woman with hair as black as ink and eyes just as dark and mesmerizing. Her gaze seemed to follow her as she walked close behind Gerald. She concluded that that was Madame Kanetthio; she had never seen a Native of the Americas.

_"I will inform you now: Master Haytham is rarely in a suitable mood to speak to anyone. His illness makes him very unpredictable, and sometimes hostile in his behavior. So please do not take offense to his actions." _Aveline wanted to ask exactly what kind of illness he possessed, yet she held her tongue; if he hadn't disclosed it, it was for good reason.

Gerald opened the wooden doors and led her inside. Master Haytham's bedroom had dark furnishings and a large bed that sat up high off the thick rugs on the wooden floor. He was sitting upright with a pair of glasses perched on his avian nose.

"Gerald. I see you've brought company. Surely by the way she's dressed, she's not a suitor here for Connor," he spoke. His tone was painfully formal and proper—and she wasn't sure if she should have been insulted by his observation or not.

"No. This is the new maiden assigned to watch over Madame Ziio. Aveline de Grandpré."

This time, he actually took his eyes away from the book to give her a once-over. Surely that was not the man in the paintings. Master Haytham's hair was most definitely dark as a younger man, and his eyes were dismissive, almost as if he didn't want to acknowledge the existence of anyone besides himself. "She seems harmless enough. Exceptionally pretty. It's not that Ziio can't hold her own quite well, but we must exercise caution with strangers from other lands. Their customs can be quite barbaric."

Aveline rolled her eyes mentally and called him an expletive in her native tongue, but bowed slightly with a polite smile.

"Oh. She has manners. Lovely. Where is she from?"

"Paris."

"The rat hole just across the way. Despite their allied victory with the Americans, they fail to appease their own citizens just a few decades later. A strange occurrence, but not of my concern. Very well. Send her to my wife for appraisal. The last two girls left the estate in tears." He returned to his book, and apparently, their conversation was over.

The French woman left the room quickly behind her French counterpart to keep her temper from boiling over at the cost of her job.

_"That is not the Master Haytham that employed me several years ago. He was much gentler and sympathetic towards the disadvantaged,"_ Gerald told her. _"Madame Ziio is pleasant most days, but it seems the difficulty of her pregnancy never fixed itself, and she is confined to her bedroom. If I am correct, it was your sister Hélène that kept careful watch over her and took good care of her. They will be expecting you to meet or exceed her performance. Since there is an event tonight, she will need your strength to tend to her guests."_

He opened the door to her room, which was a drastic difference from Master Haytham's room. Her decorations were nothing like Aveline had ever seen, so they must have been from the Americas. They were strange, but beautiful in their exotic nature. Her walls were light blue, almost white, and instead of blankets comprised of fabric, they were heavy animal furs. Instead of paintings, she had what looked like a net with feathers tied to a loose string hanging on the walls. The traditional dresser with a vanity mirror sat on the other side of her room, and there were many dresses that hung in her wardrobe.

Aveline was so fixated on her surroundings, she had failed to notice the woman sitting by the window in a plump armchair, watching her intently. "You are so fascinated with what my husband provides for me, that you have failed to see the very reason for being in here." Her deep, strong voice caught her attention immediately, and the young woman suddenly felt very self-conscious in front of the older, beautiful woman. Her skin was the shade of mahogany wood, and her features were chiseled and broad. Her eyes were dark and perceiving, yet kind, and her raven-colored hair was braided into two neat plaits that fell to her bosom. "You must be Helen's sister. She did not lie when she said her younger sister strongly resembled her."

"Oui (Yes)," she said, immediately trying to find the English word for yes. "U-uh..."

"It's alright," she said with an assuring smile. "You will learn English soon enough. It was not an easy language for me to grasp, either. Gerald, make sure to give her a uniform and send her back to me."

"Of course, Madame. Right away." Aveline bowed and went on her way, the hostility she once felt quickly dissipating with the kindness of her mistress.

_"I like Madame Ziio,"_ she informed Gerald immediately.

He smiled. "_Perhaps she has a soft spot for you, since you are not from this part of the world, either. She keeps her distance from the other maids, because they are hesitant to be in her company. They have their reservations about Natives from America and thus they are scared of her. But she is a very pleasant woman."_

"_And what about their son, Connor?" _she asked as Gerald began to ascend a flight of stairs.

He gave her a less than pleased look. _"You will meet the future of the Kenways soon enough. Stay here while I go fetch a uniform in your size." _He disappeared up the stairs, and she began to look around again. One painting in particular caught her interest. It was most definitely Madame Ziio, but she had a baby in her arms. It was a dark-haired child with sharp, piercing eyes, much like the blond-haired man in the other portrait. Her guess was that the baby was Connor. Not much time must have passed since it was completed.

The sound of a masculine voice behind a closed door drew her attention further down the hall, to the last room on the level. The door was barely open, but the voice was clear and strong. Whoever it was, he must have been reciting a poem or speech.

"...joust of words, so to speak."

"Aye. 'Twas exactly what you say." She heard a book slam shut and hit the floor; she stepped closer to see who it was that was frustrated. He passed by the door, a flash of blue and tan. "No. This is stupid. I hate English literature." His accent was not like Madame Ziio's, nor like Haytham's, but a mix of the two. "I'm turning into one of them. I didn't go to America for nothing." His footsteps approached the door, and she turned to leave, until she felt his hands reach out of the door and pull her in by the arms.

What smelled like alcohol and paper flooded her nostrils as she was forced to stand in front of whoever it was that grabbed her.

Connor Kenway was no spindly teenage boy. His lips were fixed in a thin line, and his eyes were full of fiery impudence. "What have we here?" he asked.

She remained silent, not only because she couldn't speak English, but because his presence was so overwhelming and dictatorial, that she felt _afraid__. _

"You must be one of the suitors that can't speak English. That is...feasible." He stepped closer, and in the shadow of his hulking presence, she stepped back to allow herself room to breathe. But with each step back that she took, he filled that with his own until she was pressed against the wall. He reached out and grabbed her face, holding it firmly in his hands. "I'm not too impressed. High cheekbones, lips much too full, but..." He forced her to stare directly at him. His eyes were like molten gold, and held that same intensity that the baby in the painting possessed. "Green eyes with your skin _is_ peculiar. Where are you from?"

"Monsieur (Mister) Connor..." she started to say. As if burned by fire, he pulled away, confused—almost _insulted. _

"You're not a suitor; you're a maidservant. Why are you in here?" he demanded. The once inquiring, curious demeanor he possessed quickly turned into hardened arrogance.

She attempted to explain, stuttering over the few words she could say in English. "I...Madame...uh...help..." Within seconds, Gerald appeared with her uniform and ripped her out of Connor's reach as if he were a predator.

"What is she doing here? Why is she not in uniform?" he turned the question to the more seasoned helper.

"I was procuring a uniform for her and she must have wandered off. I'm sorry, Master Connor. Suivez-moi (Follow me), Aveline." Without looking back, she hurried behind Gerald, eager to escape Master Haytham's son.

But she would never forget his eyes.

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><p>And so there you have it! This sets the stage for the rest of the story. As I mentioned in the beginning author's note, many familiar faces will appear in this story and will pop up very often.<p>

So we've been introduced to the Kenways. Haytham seems to be unchanged, but what mysterious illness does he have? We will find out eventually.

And Connor...my goodness, he is quite a character, indeed. Not to worry, he will reveal more of his coined reputation among his fellow Englishmen. But the moment at the end, is just one run-in between our two beloved Assassins.

Ziio will probably be the Mother Hen throughout the story. And she will always be on Aveline's side, which is a plus for this story, since her son and husband don't seem to care too much for Aveline.

Expect an update within the next few weeks; I can't give you an_ exact_ date, but I'm shooting for **February**** 24th.**

*Fact Tidbits: Calais is a real city in northwestern France. It's a port city and they do send out and receive goods from other countries to distribute to mainland cities.

**Please do check out the poll on my profile.** It's crucial for the development of this story: to have an Assassin-Templar conflict or not to have one? Just keep in mind: this is AU, so making no mention of it shouldn't be a problem, right? But still, you guys have a measure of control over which direction this story goes.


	2. Chapter I

**A/N: Thank you guys so much for showing your support for this story! For being so faithful, here is the first chapter.**

**Also: Connor will continue to make appearances in each chapter, so we'll get some Connorline action often enough. And French dialogue will continue to be written in italics.**

**And I should warn you, there will be issues of immigration and race in this story, so there will be sequences of dialogue where it's not so pleasant.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Ubisoft, so please don't sue.**

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><p><strong>Chapter I: London's Finest<strong>

Aveline decided from the moment that Gerald ripped her away from Connor, that she would do her absolute best not to run into him while she was alone, or even in the midst of others. He unsettled her greatly with how much power he wielded in his hands and his eyes. If he wanted to, he could have broken her slender neck with just a slight movement of his arm.

_"Why did you go into his room? He is nothing but trouble, like the rest of them,"_ Gerald told her, escorting her down the hall.

_"I didn't. He grabbed me and pulled me inside. He thought I was one of the women he was expecting."_

_"Connor Kenway is not to be trusted. He's known for flirting unashamedly with women, though he has an intended already."_

_"Then he's not a man at all. He's just a boy,"_ she muttered, trying to cool the heat in her cheeks. She couldn't believe that she was _almost_taken by his handsome appearance like a fresh-faced teen, and here she was on the verge of being two and twenty!

_"Exactly. And the last thing I would want to happen to you is a scandal involving his name. He will go without punishment and you will be deported to France or reduced to working in a brothel."_

Aveline shuddered at the thought of using her body to earn a means of living—if the wages even were hers to keep. But as was the case in Paris, when a woman was without a husband or a modest way to take care of herself, if she didn't want to starve in the streets, she had to use her only resource. _"Who is his intended? Surely he doesn't care about her a great deal if he's willing to put his hands on another woman."_

_"Her name is Lilith Adams. When her father passed, her mother inherited all of his earnings and estate from his steel-working mills. If Connor were to marry her, they would be one of the wealthiest and influential couples in London. His father neither approved nor disapproved of their courtship, and his mother frowned on the relationship, since the girl is boring and has no substance, as she put it the day she met Lilith."_Aveline wondered what this Lilith Adams looked like, since her own appearance did not strike Connor Kenway that much, if at all.

Gerald stopped in front of a door and opened it for her. There was a dimly lit candle on a nightstand, and an empty washbasin in the middle of the floor. _"You can change into your uniform here. Leave your clothes folded on the stand and someone will wash them and have them ready for your departure for the evening. Madame Ziio will be expecting your assistance shortly."_ And with that, Gerald left her alone.

After closing the door and locking it for good measure, Aveline began loosening the back of her mint green dress, all the while thinking of how drastic her life would change now that she was living on her own.

With both of her parents inept, she had to fend for herself. The registration assistant informed her of the closest local housing developments where she would be with other women and off of the streets. She had already been assigned a room and a bed, and she was promised such every night as long as she paid the small fee for keeping it. She wondered how many of the other women serving the Kenways lived there, or if they had family in London to stay with.

Lingering no more than a few seconds, Aveline stepped into her maid's outfit, tightened the bodice, and stepped out to return to Madame Ziio.

She was still sitting in the chair when the younger woman knocked twice. "Come in." Aveline entered quietly and closed the door behind her.

"I'm sure Gerald let you know that we're throwing a small gathering of friends tonight, at my son's behest. He's the most sociable of the family. You'll have to help me up; my body is not what it used to be." She approached the older woman and carefully helped her up by her hands before holding her steady by the waist. Madame Ziio walked slowly towards her private washroom with a slight limp on her right side. For a woman who looked to be no older than forty years, she moved about like a much older woman.

Aveline wanted to ask her what happened, but it was neither her place nor her concern. "Before I knew I was pregnant with Connor, my village back home was burned down by colonists. When I was trying to escape, a wooden beam fell on my leg, and I haven't been able to walk the same since then. And Connor was a difficult child for me to carry. He caused me to bleed and bleed until he finally decided he wanted to come out. Haytham was terrified that I would not have survived the delivery. But here I am. Broken and older than I'd like, but here nonetheless." Her washroom was painted the same color as her bedroom, with a rack for fresh cloths and scented oils. Ziio began to loosen the ties of her dress, and Aveline was quick to assist in sliding the dress down her shoulders.

Her injury aside, Madame Ziio was a sturdy woman, her bone and muscle hardened by her previous life in North America. It was a strength that she not only could see in her frame, but also _feel_ by her very presence. Though Connor had scared her to her bones, he possessed the same spirit.

"Pull the lever for the warm water," she instructed and Aveline did so, watching the faucet fill the large tub, slowly but surely. "Help me inside." She linked hands with her and helped her into the white basin. The Native woman let out a relieved sigh and closed her eyes. "Not a day goes by when I'm reminded of what happened that day in my village. People were screaming in fear and anguish, there was fire everywhere; bodies littered the ground that was no longer sacred. And then my husband decides to bring me here, close to my son's birth date.

My friends and family are nothing but a bittersweet memory in my heart. I've chosen to forgive Haytham and his people for what they've done, but that doesn't mean I've forgotten."

Aveline remained speechless, having nothing to say (for even if she did, Madame Ziio wouldn't have understood). She had never really heard what had been happening in the United States when she was back in Paris, except that they were being torn in two by legal slavery, and that was some years ago. But she would have never guessed they were mistreating and _killing_ innocent people.

Once the tub was full, Aveline stopped the water and began to loosen Ziio's braids, allowing her thick, raven-colored hair to ripple and fall down her shoulders. No doubt, when Master Haytham first caught sight of her, he was mesmerized by her dark, exotic looks.

Aveline went for the soap—which she knew to be imported from °Marseille—and dipped it in the warm water before she carefully tended to the skin on her shoulders and back. "Your sister was gentle as well. I appreciated her kind soul."

"Merci (Thank you)—uh…" she stammered, embarrassed that she didn't know the English term.

"It's alright. I've met enough French speakers in my life to know you're saying thank you. Not all English speakers are ignorant of other languages." Smiling, Aveline continued to lather the soap into Madame Ziio's hair and soon after rinsed it out.

Once she had soaked long enough, Aveline helped her out of the tub and dried her off carefully before helping her step into her undergarments. Nudity had never really been a problem for her, considering she had tended to children younger than herself back in Paris. However, they were all_girls_; male nudity, whether it is just the chest or the whole body, she preferred not to ever see in her lifetime.

Hélène once inquired about this, and admitted to having seen a few nude men—and on purpose, too. Aveline immediately thought the worst of her older sibling, but her fears were quickly cast aside once she revealed that she had been passing by the window of a lumber factory and the workers were in the middle of changing clothes before returning home. When the younger Grandpré daughter said otherwise, Hélène reminded her that if she ever were to marry, male nudity would become a sight she quickly grew accustomed to.

Aveline had hoped that she could go as long as she could without being married, perhaps eight or nine and twenty. But she did not wish to look after ill-mannered children and adults her whole life to ensure her safety and future.

Sighing quietly, her mind returned to the moment at present, and began twisting the Native woman's hair into two neat plaits before wrapping them around one another and pinning them to the base of her neck with a diamond clip. The small, yet spectacular hair ornament complemented her pale blue dress beautifully in contrast with her rouge-colored skin.

"You work quickly and quietly, just like your sister," her madame reminded her. "So you must be a quick learner. I will teach you the English language every day, little by little. Hélène was able to speak it well enough in three months."

Aveline was speechless; it would have cost her more than she wished to learn it in a school or by a tutor. "Merci, madame," she said quietly.

Ziio offered her a warm smile before she inclined her ear to the activity just a level below them. "I do believe our guests are here."

xxxxx

Upon descending the stairs carefully with Madame Ziio, Aveline knew that she was being watched. A creeping feeling entered her mind the moment her booted foot hit the marble floor. There were at least a dozen guests there, not one seemed to be paying her any mind, but she was_certain_ someone was looking at her.

Connor was engaged in conversation with a dark-haired woman, not much older than herself, and the several other guests that were male paid her no attention as she maneuvered her way through the crowds with Madame Ziio on her arm.

As they passed by, each guest said a proper greeting before returning to conversation, until they reached Master Haytham.

He seemed neither pleased nor disgusted by the presence of his wife, but the glint in his eye spoke volumes to Aveline, though she was not the one who caused such a reaction. "Evening, Ziio." He placed a firm, chaste kiss on the back of her hand, his eyes never leaving hers. "I trust this girl is treating you with all the respect and care you deserve."

"Yes. She's exceptional at her duties. If I ever have a cause to complain, I will inform you." He nodded once, and gave a dark look to the young Frenchwoman before he resumed his conversation with one of the guests.

When it came time for Ziio to address her son, Aveline had thought nothing of it until they were just a few feet away from him. Her heart sank into the pit of her empty stomach when his intense gaze was shifted from the girl to his mother. She prayed that he ignore her, like all the other noblemen back home.

"Son," his mother addressed him.

He took her hand in his and kissed it tenderly, as his father had just done. "Mother. Your presence makes all the other women look rather pale," he said with a grin. Ziio reflected the same, and a sort of warmth enveloped them for a brief moment and was over as she turned to the young woman.

"Madame Kenway, it's always a pleasure to see you," she said with a pleasant smile. There was a refined beauty about the Englishwoman, and no doubt with the way Connor stared at her, she was the Lilith Adams that Gerald had told her about.

She was taller than most women Aveline had seen—and many had remarked that she was a stately young woman herself. Her dark brown hair was pulled back into a neat bun, making the sharp angles in her cheekbones that much more apparent, and her ocean blue eyes were still yet lacked the luster of youth and tenacity. Connor had remarked that her lips were too full for his tastes, so it was no surprise to her that his intended barely had any—narrow and thin, like a small bird.

Aveline stifled her grin, and looked away for a moment when Lilith's fair voice was directed at her, "And is this Hélène's replacement?"

"Yes. This is her younger sister, Aveline." The French girl stood tall and met Lilith's unwavering, cold stare.

"They favor a great deal, though the other girl didn't have the audacity to stare." And with that, Lilith turned her attention back to Connor, whose eyes were still focused on Aveline as Ziio began to pull her weight towards the dining area. She glanced at him quickly and returned her attention to the Native woman.

"I know you can understand _everything_ I say, so I will inform you now that I don't favor Lilith Adams a great deal, if at all. She has a black heart, like the rest of these people," Ziio informed her just above a whisper.

Aveline had noted how quaint and formal the guests were. They barely touched, barely smiled, and barely laughed. How they could thrive in such a cold environment without warmth and laughter to enrich their lives, she couldn't fathom. Back home, though poor, everyone in her neighborhood laughed easily, loved easily, and were quick to embrace one another as if they had gone months without seeing each other.

Once Madame Ziio was seated, Gerald called her into the kitchen to wash her hands and prepare to serve a portion of the dinner party. Missus Ingalton, the eldest maidservant and apparently the utmost authority among them, was giving orders to keep the tea hot and make sure that wine and water glasses stayed full the entire night.

She was a short, squat woman with graying hair in a neat ponytail and a pair of wide, gray-blue eyes. One of the younger maidservants stuck close to her side, and sported a similar appearance, albeit more slender with dark red hair and freckles. Aveline assumed that was her daughter.

Their eyes met, and the red-haired girl frowned slightly before she busied herself in conversation with her mother. Somewhat confused, she filled the tray with the baskets of bread and returned to the dining room, which resembled a large hall with a table capable of seating sixteen. She had been given the task of serving the Kenway and the Wilmington family. While they were busy in conversation, she placed a basket in between each person, and while doing so, the feeling of being watched returned.

Slightly nervous, she stole a glance in Connor's direction; he was busy conversing with a broad, fair-haired fellow with thin lips and icy blue eyes. So as not to raise concern, she recovered from her unease and returned to the kitchen to retrieve the actual meal. Gerald looked to her expectantly, and right away, she wanted to tell him that she felt like she was being watched, but decided against it. Already, she knew he was protective of her, and she didn't want to cause any trouble.

_"Easy enough, no?"_ he asked with a smile.

_"Yes. Though I don't think Connor's intended likes me—or my sister."_

_"That's just English custom: to be very refined and formal. So try not to take it personally,"_ he assured her as he placed the covered dishes on her tray. Aveline carried it with two hands, seeing that the main course was much heavier, and returned to the table.

This time, the yellow-haired man was staring directly at her, watching her every move. She hesitated to move closer to the table once their gazes met, yet she pressed on, swallowing the lump forming in her throat. His eyes were vastly cool, yet piercing, much like Connor's. She felt exposed and naked under his scrutiny as she placed the tray on the table and began setting each dish in front of the Kenway and Wilmington family members.

_I should do this quickly, so that I can return to the kitchen and away from Connor's friend_ she thought. When it came time for her to serve his parents, they continued to ignore her as they listened to Master Kenway speak of his travels to the Far East. However, their son kept his eyes fixed on the exotic beauty making her steady approach. As she came close, he returned his focus to Connor, and she calmed immensely as she placed the tray before him, and removed the lid.

"I'd like more wine, please," he told her. His voice was surprisingly baritone, and quite pleasant on the ears, but that did not mitigate her wariness of him.

"Oui, monsieur (Yes, sir)," she said quietly, and took the bottle and began pouring it into his nearly empty cup. Just as she finished, she felt something warm skim her inner thigh, and nearly dropped the bottle in shock and embarrassment. Thankfully, no one had been paying attention—

Except Connor. His face was derived of emotion, enigmatic even. But he had seen what transpired. Hurriedly, she placed the bottle on the table and exited to the kitchen, trying to mask her shame behind indifference. Gerald hadn't noticed her change in demeanor and instead asked her to look after Madame Ziio, should she need anything.

_I would rather stand in the shadows for the rest of the evening than deal with Connor's friend again. Has he no discretion or shame in touching a woman he doesn't know or claim?_ she asked herself, discreetly standing poised behind the Native woman, who seemed to have no problem feeding herself.

Once the family had finished dinner, they retired to the main library for tea and small tarts made from fresh fruit and sweet cream. The older guests grouped together and the younger ones opted to sequester themselves off in the smaller study area.

Missus Ingalton assigned Aveline (to her behest) to the room with the younger party attendants, to pour their tea upon request and make sure that the tart plate stayed full.

As she was quickly growing used to, the three affluent persons in the room ignored her as they carried on in conversation that she personally found quite dull.

However, Connor could not mask his displeasure at the static nature of their dialogue; his eyes said it all as he lingered in his own thoughts. Aveline found it interesting, only because he seemed to fit in so well with English culture. If their current line of discussion was so boring, why was he even present?

"It seems more and more immigrants pour into our country every day by the thousands. England is such a small country, we can only house so many people," Lilith droned, sipping her tea in modest amounts. The French woman rolled her eyes, attempting to drown out the conversation at hand as she stood close to the door. Connor's blond friend had already stolen a few curious glances her way, and she shifted from foot to foot each time.

_Of course, they will talk about immigrants because I am in the room…pompous idiots_ she thought.

"I think it's refreshing to have more people from other countries settling here; it offers opportunity for economic diversity. Because of our alliance with India, we now have imported tea and spices to enrich our food. And they, in turn, receive a proper, solid education in European history," the blond man remarked, sliding the last of his tart in his mouth. The plate was nearly empty, so it was nearing her time to return to the kitchen to replenish them.

"You'll have to excuse me for a few moments, gentlemen," the tall brunette ceased the conversation immediately, gracefully striding towards the door. Aveline felt her brows nearly touch her hairline at the suddenness of her departure, and took her exit as a cue to leave the room.

Once she had departed, Connor's friend spoke, "Your new maid is quite interesting."

The Native wrinkled his nose, a glimpse of her face in his memory. "As a matter of fact, I find her appearance quite dull and uninteresting, Bernard."

"Oh, don't fib to yourself!" he scoffed, sipping his tea. "Surely, her appearance would garner the attention of any Englishman who hasn't stepped foot outside the country. Why, if she were of nobility, there'd be an entire line of suitors asking for her hand."

Connor quirked a brow, "Surely you would be one of those English gentleman in line? You fancy the unusual and... 'exotic'. No doubt that is why you've decided to take liberties with my mother's new handmaiden."

"No, I'm merely stating fact, Connor, and what does it matter what I do with her? She is merely property as long as she remains a foreign resident," he retorted. "I prefer a classic Victorian beauty: slender, regal and refined with a head full of gold curls, just like my mother."

The Native hummed quietly, determining whether or not his friend was telling the truth. He had never really paid the girl much attention after what occurred in his personal study, and he didn't intend to.

xxxxx

Once her tray was decorated with assorted desserts and a pot of tea, Aveline picked it up and headed back to the smaller study area, only to have her ears piqued by the conversation that had continued in her absence.

"….mongrels from foreign countries…"

"…European brethren lie down with barbaric people…"

"…education for the mind, not what occurs below the waist…" She heard bits and pieces of the conversation, but it was not wholesome or kind in its nature.

Frowning, she hesitated to push through the door and make her presence known. _How my sister put up with this, I don't know, but she is a woman of strong will, like Maman. Wherever she's gone, I only hope she's alright, and faring in better conditions than this._

Aveline looked up the hall for a moment, then down the other way before she removed the lid for the steaming hot water.

Smiling mostly to herself, she mustered up a good amount of saliva and spit into the pot.

_Surely they won't know the difference_ she thought as she replaced the lid, and then quietly walked inside with a more than pleasant smile on her face.

xxxxx

**First of all, sorry for the late update! And there's the Aveline spunk we all know and love! I figured since she can't openly get back at them for insulting her left and right, she'd do it in subtle ways—and she'll keep doing it, because Aveline isn't a girl who takes being mistreated all that well.**

**We will continue to find out more about Aveline's sister with each chapter, as her disappearance has something to do with the main plot.**

**For the next update, I'm aiming for April 2nd. I can't make any promises, though. With just the household desktop, I don't have many liberties. Or it may come sooner than that.**

**Does everyone like this version of Connor? Or no? And many more ACIII characters will appear, as I stated before.**

**Don't forget to review and let me know what you think of this chapter! I'm always open for suggestions for the next installment.**

**°Marseilles: a real city located in Southeast France. They were well-known for manufacturing and exporting scented soaps in the 19th century. Wealthy families like the Kenways and Adams would have no problem acquiring such a luxury of the times.**

**Until next time, PM me or let me know your concerns in your reviews!**


	3. Chapter II

**A/N: For being so faithful, another chapter.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Ubisoft, so please don't take my money.**

**Also: Prepare for there to be Connorline moments in each chapter from now on. That lovely tension we adore starts early.**

**Chapter II: A Day in the Life**

Aveline thought about what she had just done as she poured each of the three a healthy serving of hot tea, and tried her best not to give them any reason to pay her any mind. Thankfully, they resumed their conversation, and turned to a less upsetting subject.

"Have you heard what's going on in the Johnson family?" Lilith asked, sipping her tea.

"No, the last I heard was that Sir William was trying to acquire an unused plot of land owned by the government. What has happened since then?"

"He intends to give it to the Natives he brought over here from the Americas. He defends them as if they're his own kin, claiming that they have no one to defend them or protect them from harm. They're not harmless little animals; they're human beings," she scoffed, setting down her cup. Casually, she slipped her hand into Connor's and smoothed his tanned skin with her fingertips. He reciprocated the action, and Aveline quickly looked away from the gesture. She had never felt comfortable viewing displays of affection.

"The tribe from which he took them is disappearing day by day. They number just a few hundred, and the pox is killing their old and infantile," Connor said. "While I was in the States, even my own people were having a difficult time adjusting to the changes brought on by colonial expansion."

"It was bound to happen eventually," Bernard said. "When the English first contacted the Indians, it changed the course of human history."

"Yes, well this isn't a history class," Connor interjected quickly. His eyes seemed to fill with embers as he cleared his throat. "William Johnson has pure intentions, but he will not get the desired results. We already have half a million people requesting legal citizenship, and that's more than Parliament can handle right now. If our immigrant population continues to grow, England will spiral out of control."

"They'll never let that happen. Surely, there is a form of control they can exert over the borders," Lilith said, leaning her head on her intended's shoulder.

"You can't prevent small boats from entering the harbors, or the caravans bringing in imported goods from foreign countries. Indigenous and immigrant alike, it's an adjustment we all need to make."

_For a little boy, Connor does have some form of sense_ Aveline thought, staring at the books on the shelves.

"All this chatter about immigrants and population control is making me tired. I do believe I'll be retiring home soon. Walk me to my carriage, Connor," Lilith droned. He helped her to her feet and supported her by the small of her back. Once she stood erect, she placed a light peck on his lips.

Aveline mentally rolled her eyes, and made it a point to slip out the door with their dishes before Bernard even knew that he was in the room alone. Moments later, she heard the _click-clack_ of his shoes as she walked down the hall. The other guests seemed to be leaving, as well.

The Adams were saying their thank yous and goodbyes while Haytham stood with his arm wrapped tight around his wife's shoulders. Lilith kissed Connor again, her flesh lingering on his for more than a moment before she joined her parents and went out the door. The Wilmingtons said their goodbyes and departed soon after with Bernard behind them.

Gerald swiftly approached Aveline, "I'll take these dishes to the kitchen; you may assist Madame Ziio in getting ready for bed." She nodded once, and took careful steps towards the Native woman.

Her husband was whispering something in her ear that made her russet skin turn an even deeper shade of red and shift on her feet. A light chuckle left his lips as he turned to her, "Ziio won't need your assistance tonight, maiden. You may tidy up her quarters and the study rooms, and then you may retire for the evening." She watched them with keen interest as they headed up the stairs, and her wits eventually caught up with her when Master Haytham placed his palm on his wife's backside.

"They're only disgusting like that sometimes. Tonight's party must have given him some extra vigor." Connor's voice came as a most unpleasant surprise, yet Aveline calmly turned in his direction before he turned his back to her and headed for his own room.

_After all this time, they're still like young newlyweds…I wonder if Maman and Papa would be the same way if they were still together…_ she thought morosely.

Sighing quietly, she returned to the kitchen, where most of the servants had gathered to help with the tidying. Gerald was busy piling the dirty dishes into neat sections, while Missus Ingalton's daughter washed them. Despite the rouge in her cheeks from the heat of the water, she seemed to be enjoying herself—or perhaps it was the company of the young man next to her.

Gerald was not an unattractive man, but he wasn't doggedly handsome either. It was the way his smile assured people that he was to be trusted, and the youthful glint in his gray-blue eyes that made Aveline feel at ease in his presence. The young red-headed girl seemed to be enamored with him, seeing as how she took every opportunity to laugh at his every word.

_It seems women are the same, no matter the land they live in; a pretty man with a nice smile makes the heart flutter_ she thought, clearing off the dirty plates.

Once the house had been tidied, and the Kenway family were well off to sleep, all of the servants began to vacate the home to retire to their own.

Aveline felt out of place, and quite uncomfortable; it seemed like everyone else had somewhere to rest for the night, except her.

"_I know of a Public Housing unit nearby, Aveline; I'll escort you there,"_ Gerald insisted.

"_Alright_," she agreed quietly. They walked side by side in silence, though she could feel his eyes on her ever so often.

"Where are…your parents?"

A knot formed in her stomach at the question, yet she replied, _"Maman died of the fever three years ago, and Papa…he is gone, as well."_

"_I'm sorry for asking,"_ he replied, his tone somber.

"_No one really asks where my parents are, but I'm not ashamed to tell what happened. My sister and I have had to fend for ourselves for a long time. We were forced to grow up quickly if we wanted to survive."_ Gerald remained silent, and refrained from pressing further into her dark past.

It wasn't easy for them, two little girls of mixed ancestry, to keep themselves pure and safe from the trash that roamed the streets at night. They looked after one another like the two remaining kittens in a litter, and their bond grew stronger with each passing day and all its anxieties.

The name of the Public Housing unit was Freckled Horse Inn, painted in elaborate gold above the doorpost. Several women were arriving just as they did, yet paid no mind as they hurried inside.

"_You will be safe here, with other women. The Kenway estate is just up this main street, so you will never be lost,"_ Gerald told her.

Aveline nodded a few times, staring appreciatively into his eyes. _"Thank you so much, Gerald. I didn't expect to make such a fast friend upon moving to London. I thought I would've had to figure it out on my own."_

"_You're most welcome,"_ he grinned. _"I would never forgive myself if I let a young woman try to survive on her own here, without family or friends. London has its wealthy, its glamour and its splendor, but like a rose, it also has its many thorns. I don't wish for you to experience the pain that comes with reaching out for its beauty." _Awkwardly, he coughed into his hand and took a step away from her. _"I believe this is where we part ways. Good night, Aveline, and sleep well."_

She gave him a warm smile and began to head inside, when she felt the sensation of being watched. This was the third time this night. Her heart crumpled slightly as she observed her dark, foggy surroundings and quickly entered the building.

xxxxx

"_**We will not have anymore of that mute nonsense, understand Aveline? I know you can understand me perfectly; it's just a matter of you gaining confidence in your ability to speak English. There's nothing to be afraid of."**_

_**The young girl had to catch herself from glowering at her mistress; Madame Ziio had brought up teaching her English several times already, and she feigned ignorance each time.**_

_**Each time they held a gathering for their friends, they mocked the French girl, assuming that she was deaf, dumb, and mute, since she never took the time to answer their requests. Connor found it quite amusing, to see her facial expressions change from indifference to outright indignance. Certainly, he held no romantic attraction to the girl, but she was mysterious, and entertaining. Whenever their eyes met, she would quickly look away and busy herself with her task. He knew what effect he had on women, young and old—and it drove Aveline mad to no end.**_

"_**If you refuse to learn English, I'll have you removed from our employment roster, and you can take to begging on the streets." Aveline's emerald eyes widened in shock, and the Native woman smirked. **_

"_**If you are tired of people calling you names, then it's time you learned to prove them wrong."**_

**xxxxx**

Several weeks had passed since then, and Aveline found her 'tutoring lessons' in English were bittersweet. While she enjoyed learning a new language, she felt that her mother tongue would suffer from its lack of use once English was mastered.

Madame Ziio told her that her birth tongue was one she would never forget, because it was a part of her, and that comforted her greatly.

While in the kitchen or finishing a task with Gerald, she would practice her English with him, and he seemed quite impressed that she was catching on so quickly.

However, their moments together, ended abruptly, cut short by the clipped, gruff syllables of Missus Ingalton's voice. She had been giving Aveline the most strenuous of tasks when she was away from Ziio: dusting the tall library shelves, scrubbing the cobblestone of the footpaths, and even rearranging the heavy furniture in the studies of each floor of the mansion.

Aveline suspected the woman had a personal vendetta against her, for what reason, she didn't know. But she often found herself alone, tending to her daily chores and mostly singing to herself. She found that the solitude was calming, but her new set of duties also caused her life to be interrupted by the youngest Kenway on a daily basis.

At times when she thought she was alone, reciting the latest passage from an English book, his chuckle would send a chill down her spine before he disappeared behind a door or down the stairs. His wolfish grin at her attempts to speaking English infuriated her, and she thought to pull down all the books in his study while he was away.

_I cannot let him—or any of these people—be right about me_ she thought, wiping the book shelf down with her rag before straightening her clothes. Unbeknownst to her, the subject of her thoughts entered the main library without a word, watching her as she inspected her work before moving on to the next shelf.

A soft moan escaped her lips as she rubbed a sore spot on the base of her neck and rolled her shoulders. He frowned slightly at the gesture, but that is what she was hired to do, anyway.

She started dusting the shelves again, and began singing in a low, soft tone in her mother tongue. Connor began to relax a little as he listened to her hymn, his ears soothed by the velvety tone of her voice until he quickly realized what he had been doing. He left before she could even suspect that she wasn't in the room alone. Long after he had departed, she stopped singing and turned; she had sworn that someone was in the library with her, but dismissed it as just a feeling and nothing more.

xxxxx

When Madame Ziio first saw Aveline enter her room with dark circles under her eyes, she assumed that the girl had fallen asleep late the night before.

But when it became a habit for her to slouch against the nearest wall when she finished a task, or to close her eyes while standing, or the fact that she wasn't focused during her English lessons, she knew that her work load had become too heavy.

"Why haven't you told me that they're giving you too much work?" she asked the younger woman.

Aveline ceased in braiding her hair for a moment, then continued, trying to conjure up a good excuse. But there wasn't one.

"I am a servant; that is why I am here. To work," she replied, trying to grow accustomed to her sultry voice speaking English.

"But you are still human, and much too young to have calloused fingertips and black rings around your eyes. Missus Ingalton has never cared for the girls that take Gerald's attention away from her daughter. From now on, you answer directly to me, and me alone, understand? She will not retire you to an early grave."

"Yes, Madame Ziio."

"Good. I will be resting for the remainder of the day; we will be attending a play later on this evening, _Echo and Narcissus_. Go and tend to Connor and his friends; they're in his study as usual."

Hesitant to leave her side, Aveline's face held a look of uncertainty. Her run-ins with Connor had become more frequent, and he seemed to be enjoying the rises he got out of her each time.

The Native woman grinned. "Connor is not so bad, once he stops being a pig-headed boy."

"I do not like the way he teases me. If he does not like me, then he should leave me alone."

"If you show him that you are vulnerable to teasing, then he will keep doing it. Don't give him any chances to get a reaction out of you."

Sighing gently, she exited the room without another word and headed down the hallway, trying to anticipate how many pairs of eyes would be on her once she entered his chambers.

To her surprise, it was just Connor, sitting with his legs crossed at the ankles as he read a novel to himself. He paid her no mind as she came to inspect the tea pot, which was empty, and she took it downstairs to be replenished as silently as she had entered.

It wasn't until she was setting down the metal tray that Connor's concentration was broken and he gave her a once-over. "I hadn't even noticed that you had taken the tray. You must've learned that trick from Mother." He had a smirk in his tone, but she reminded herself not to show visible discomfort.

"Madame Ziio has never taught me such a thing. However, I am grateful that she has been kind enough to teach me English," she replied, loud and clear. She nearly jumped when he snapped his book shut and got to his feet.

"Impressive. Just a few weeks' time and you sound like one of _them_," he stated, an underlying menace in his tone. Her wide, peridot eyes remained fixed on him as his massive frame towered over hers. Reminiscent of their initial meeting, she found herself backed into a corner, trapped in his gaze. "It's only a matter of time before English is all you know."

"Madame Ziio has told me that I will not lose my mother tongue," she said. Already, she found it difficult to speak clearly as she had done before; his eyes were bewitching. It appeared that if she were not to choose her words carefully, he'd break her delicate neck between the span of his thumb and forefinger.

He huffed, a crooked grin on his handsome face. "She may be right; you caught on quick. We all once thought you were base."

"I understood every word, Master Connor." She shifted under his unwavering gaze. He moved closer, the smell of embers and pine in his clothes.

"Then why not respond in kind?"

"Because I know when someone intends to be unkind," she replied, resisting the urge to shove him back.

He was close. _Much_ too close.

"And I am in no position to retaliate," she finished, slipping away from him before he could grab her, if he had even intended to. She wouldn't give him that luxury.

xxxxx

Aveline had scaled buildings and chanced getting caught by the local patrols in Paris to view plays of all sorts. With no source of income, neither she or her sister could afford an actual ticket inside.

The Royal Opera House was gorgeous and hauntingly ancient in its design. Its entirety was made of white stone, and it stood tall and distinguished among the homes and businesses made of lesser materials. Upon entering the opera house, Aveline tried her best not to gaze up at the pearly white ceilings like a small child.

Madame Ziio saw the fascination in her eyes and smiled to herself. Master Haytham paid the girl no mind as he escorted his wife to their seats situated on the upper balcony.

Connor and Lilith trailed behind them, her arm wrapped tight around his as they whispered to one another. The dark-haired Englishwoman barely paid anyone else any mind, and had completely ignored Aveline. She wasn't expecting her to be courteous to a servant, anyway.

Once they were seated and the other attendees began to fill the auditorium, "What is the name of this play?" the French girl asked.

"_Echo and Narcissus_. I'm sure you'll enjoy it. It's much like the Shakespearean novels you've been reading. Haytham's father loved coming here."

Suddenly eager, the young woman could hardly wait for it to begin.

However, as time went on and the actors poured onto the large stage, she realized that _this_ was not a play. It was torture. The actors were stone-faced, and their voices were monotonous. The woman dressed as Echo had forgotten key dialogue pieces that even _she_ knew about, and the pace of the play had crawled almost to a standstill.

The Kenways seemed to be thoroughly enjoying themselves, intently observing the stage as they whispered to one another on occasion.

However, what bothered her more than the cumbersome performance was the other 'show' going on just a few rows in front of her.

Lilith and Connor must've gone weeks without seeing one another, what with how they couldn't stop osculating one another. Aveline tried her best to ignore the small giggles and sighs coming from the pale maiden, but apparently she had forgotten that they were in a _public setting_ and not Connor's _bedroom_.

Master Haytham had cleared his throat several times when he noticed what his son was doing. Madame Ziio rolled her eyes and a scowl found its way to her face shortly after. Their son didn't seem to notice how imprudent he was being, and it wasn't until Lilith squealed and a few heads turned in their direction that his father hissed, "Do you two mind? We're here to see a play, not you two practically eat one another's face off!"

Clearly embarrassed, Lilith tore herself away from Connor and moved to the far edge of her chair.

Connor folded his arms and cast an annoyed look at his father. Aveline chuckled to herself, and Madame Ziio merely grinned in silent satisfaction.

xxxxx

Upon returning home, Connor was absolutely furious.

"I can see something is upsetting you, Son," Ziio told him softly. They were in her room, his heavy feet pacing her wooden floor.

"That…that girl was laughing at me! She found it funny that I was being scolded like a child. And I see the way she stares at Lilith as if she's diseased. This is some form of vengeance for her, I know it," he growled.

"Your behavior _was_ quite immature, Connor. You and Lilith were acting as if you hadn't seen each other in years."

"What we do is our business," he grumbled.

"Then make sure you do it in _private_." He cast her a weary glance before he placed a firm kiss on his mother's warm forehead.

"Good night, Mother."

"Good night, Son." He departed from her side, and would've barreled right into Aveline if he had been moving any faster.

"I'm sorry," she muttered quietly, readjusting her shawl. She didn't dare look him in the eye.

"Your sister disliked Lilith as much as you do. You don't belong here; your sister was smart in leaving." At mention of her missing older sibling, a stabbing pain coursed through her chest, leaving her speechless. She looked up, and he smirked.

He walked away, having felt accomplished and retired to his bedroom.

Drawing in a shaky breath, she took her time down the stairs and into the main corridor to wait for Gerald.

An image of Hélène, young, vibrant, and jovial appeared in her mind, and she imagined her slipping away from the Kenway estate in the cover of night.

Tilting her head back and staring up at the dark ceiling, she thought _Hélène…my dear sister…_

_Where have you gone?_

xxxxx

Sorry for the late update! I had a brain blast today and got ¾ of this chapter done this afternoon. I figured I'd put it up before bed time.

I wanted to hold off on the tension between Connor and Aveline, but I couldn't help but put it in the story this soon. It's blind hatred between them now, but if you look closely, there's some attraction in there somewhere. It'll change over time and eventually become something wonderful, and Lilith will be…ahem.

And I've decided I'd play with the idea that Gerald actually does like Aveline in the game, but it's unrequited love. She won't break his heart, though. They will come to a mutual understanding later on and he'll respect her wishes. But trust me, he won't like the idea of her liking Connor.

Anyway, I'm going to say **April 28th **will be the next time I update, give or take a few days. The story is going to start picking up from this point on, so my ideas will be shooting out faster.

Any questions or suggestions, leave me a review, or if you just feel like saying how much you enjoyed reading the chapter that's fine too!


	4. Chapter III

**A/N: For being so faithful, another chapter. The chapters will be a wee shorter than before, just to extend the length of the story, is all.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Ubisoft, so please don't take my money.**

**Also: Nothing special, except you guys rock for following and reviewing this story!**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter III: Skeletons in the Closet<strong>

Once Gerald had finally finished settling the Haytham household for the night, he joined Aveline by the door and walked her to the public house, as usual.

He bid her good night with a bit of hesitation, and she inquired, "What is wrong?" Gerald blinked several times, and then looked away, rubbing a spot on his neck.

"I-it's nothing, Aveline. I will see you tomorrow." And with a polite bow, he departed, leaving her slightly confused. Her feet began to remind her that she had been tormenting them all day, and she quickly abandoned her thoughts about the auburn-haired fellow.

.

"_Papa said we shouldn't go out past dusk. It's not safe."_

"_Do you listen to everything Papa says? Isn't he the one who drove Maman away from us?"_

_Aveline remained silent; her sister's grey eyes were solid with burning hatred. "He was good only for a few things, but he was a fool. We're on our own now, and that's enough proof to me that his words mean nothing." She abandoned her post by the door and stepped outside._

_Being the younger, less experienced one, Aveline hesitated, poking her head out. The streets were just about empty, and her sister was getting further and further away. She went for her shoes, laced them quickly, and went after her, only to find out that she had disappeared._

_Panicked, she ran down the street, searching every alley and turn-off. "Hélène?" she called out several times as she walked down an avenue. She heard commotion from around the next corner, and quietly used the wall to hide her small form._

_It was a man and woman, and she was laughing as if she had just awakened from sleep. His face was hidden by her dark hair, but she could hear him making the same noises, as well. _

_She didn't quite understand what was going on; he must've told her a funny joke. _

_Suddenly, she felt someone tug at her shoulder; it was her sister, pulling her towards the main street._

"_What were they doing?" she asked. Hélène made a face she had never seen before, a mix of discomfort and solemnity._

"_What men and women do when they've drunk too much wine."_

_._

The following morning, Aveline found that the mansion was eerily still. The usual hustle and bustle that ruled the day was replaced with an uncharacteristic silence, as if something had gone wrong. Terribly wrong.

As if on cue, Gerald appeared from upstairs, looking quite tired, even though the morning had just begun.

"Gerald, where is everyone?" she asked, removing her shawl.

"The Kenways have requested that all maidservants and manservants stay off of the upper levels. I will personally assist Master Haytham, and Mrs. Ingalton will tend to Madame Ziio's needs, at his request."

"Then what remains to be done?" she asked. Never had she heard of an employer giving their servants a day off for any reason at all, except to get married.

"Madame Ziio would like for you to go into town and retrieve her summer flowers. She loves to plant them a few weeks before the spring solstice ends. I have a list for the florist; she helped your sister in the same way." At mention of her missing sibling, a sharp pang coursed through her chest, but she didn't allow her discomfort to show on her face. "Here," he handed her a small, folded piece of paper.

She took it and replaced her shawl on her shoulders before heading right back out the door. The morning air was cold and crisp as usual, as were the people. Perhaps once the day wore on and the sun made its appearance, the streets as well as the demeanor of the people would thaw out, as well.

The name of the floral shop was The Gilded Snapdragon, and according to the directions written on the paper, it wasn't too far from the mansion. Nevertheless, the obvious difference between herself and the native British population drew their attention to her, and she became increasingly uncomfortable under their scrutiny. She understood they were just being curious, but she was so used to not having any attention drawn to herself, that even a brief glance made her wary.

Eventually, she became so absorbed in her own thoughts, that she no longer paid attention to passersby. She wondered why the upper levels were off limits, when they hadn't been since she started working for the Kenways.

Maybe Madame Ziio fell seriously ill? Or Master Haytham caught the fever, and they didn't want the infection to spread? There were so many possibilities, and it bothered her to no end that she didn't know the precise reason why. She didn't know Gerald well enough to inquire further, and asking Connor was _definitely_ out of the question. He already had his reservations about her.

Her wonderment ended when she came across the storefront with the red awning that read The Gilded Snapdragon. Even though she was no gardener, Aveline could tell this person was renowned for the health of their flowers. Each pot held a different variety in assorted colors, and there wasn't a single wilted bud or leaf in sight. The vibrancy of the hues of each plant was such a stark contrast to the overcast, graying sky above, she wondered if they were actually real.

"You'd think London's weather wouldn't allow for such beautiful flowers, would you, madam?" a friendly, warm voice said. Aveline immediately looked up to find the source of the voice. It was a middle aged woman with copper-colored hair and pale blue eyes.

"Helen?" she asked, moving closer. "I haven't seen you in weeks. Where have you been?"

"I…I am not Hélène," she corrected. "I am her younger sister, Aveline. I have taken her place at the Kenway estate."

The older woman scrutinized her more carefully, nodding slowly. "At first glace, you look just like her. But now that I'm really looking at you, she's a wee taller than you are, and a little less slight. I'm sure Ziio has sent you with a list, yes?" she extended her hand, and Aveline handed it to her. "You'll have to make more than one trip to take these all back to the garden. She has one large party per year in their famed garden with exotic varieties of flowers, as well as native. Ever since her accident, she can't really get out the house much."

Aveline followed closely; she wanted to know more about Madame Ziio's accident. "She never told me about her accident. What happened?"

"Aye, I only know that after it happened, she can't be standing for too long, or her condition will get worse. Here," she quickly ended the discussion, handing her three small pots with different flowers in them. "Take these back and come back for the next few pots. Once you have them all, she'd like for you to start planting them as soon as possible. They need as much time as they can to get used to native soil."

Aveline nodded, and parted company with her, careful not to trip over any misplaced cobblestone or bump into passersby. Once she got to the mansion, she went around the front of the mansion to the rear. She had only seen the garden briefly from Madame Ziio's window, but now she had a chance to really admire the view.

The garden was a perfect rectangle with a large fountain carved into the shape of a man directly in its center. Around the fountain were a variety of flowers in red, white, and yellow. Tall, stiff bushes paralleled the edges of the garden to its end, and immediately on their sides were a large variety of flowers in shades of pink, red, blue and orange that she had never seen in France. There was a trellis on either side of the house for the vine-like flora that blossomed in a deep red-pink and deep purple, bringing life to the whitewashed gray walls of the mansion.

Just as she began to wonder where she was to put them, she noticed a sizable plot of fresh brown dirt on the other side of the fountain.

This would take longer than she had anticipated.

.

Aveline had been so busy with planting the purple irises, that she didn't hear a masculine voice shouting from inside the mansion until the source was headed in her direction.

It was Connor. Hurriedly, she dropped the dirt in her hands and scurried behind the Italian Cyprus trees, her heart thudding loudly in her chest. _Wait, why am I hiding? I've done nothing wrong_ she thought, getting read to resume her work, when he continued to vent his frustrations.

He looked as if he hadn't slept in a few days, what with how frazzled and unkempt his hair was, and the hunched position of his broad shoulders. He kept running his hands through his dark tresses, groaning and mumbling under his breath. At any moment, she was waiting for him to destroy the stone railing his hand rested on. They were his most noteworthy feature, his hands. They looked sturdy, strong, like they could break anything, but also capable of being tender; he was always so gentle with his mother, and with Lilith.

Aveline turned away from him, and delved deeper into her thoughts. _Papa was never gentle, for as long as I can remember. Maybe when I was just a baby, he held me a few times. But I don't recall hugs, kisses, or even gifts._

"…breath as delicate as April showers, eyes as verdant as the summer groves of Ireland," his voice broke into her reminiscing, and she returned her gaze to him.

His eyes were closed, and he was flexing and curling his fingers, over and over again as he continued, "Beauty as radiant and everlasting as the sun, graciousness as abundant as the ocean, and as calm as a winter's morning." Sighing, he sat down on the stairs of the sitting area, and buried his face in his hands. "Why must we keep going through this, Father? Why can't you remember me as I remember you? Mother…Mother needs you, as you were long ago." His tone was foreign to her; each time they had interacted in the past, he seemed quite self-assured and liberal. Now, he sounded restrained—_pained_ even. Whatever the cause, it came from Master Haytham, and what he was failing to do.

Connor got to his feet, surveyed the garden briefly, and returned inside. Aveline stepped out from her cover, somewhat ashamed. Was that a personal conversation that shouldn't have been heard by unworthy—and unwelcome ears?

A nagging feeling started to creep into her mind, and she fought it off, resuming her work. If Connor wanted and needed someone to confide in, he had someone.

And that someone was not her.

.

Connor felt guilty for not having visited his own mother all day. He had been so busy _wrestling_ with his Father, that his mind had been consumed by the dark nature of their relationship.

He had always been closer to his Mother for a few reasons, one being that she nearly died giving birth to him, and she was loving enough to teach him about his Native American heritage, the Kanien:kehaka. He had even mastered their dialect, and had used it in his travels during his visit with his grandmother.

And ever since her accident, he vowed to always keep her safe, because his Father could no long fulfill that vow, for a reason that he couldn't make peace with.

"Mother?" he knocked on her door before entering. Mrs. Ingalton was stitching together another dress for his mother, and she was sitting on her bed, reading another play by Shakespeare. He wondered why she was so fascinated by that man, and his silly tragic love stories.

"Yes, Connor?" she replied, her eyes never leaving the page.

"I apologize for not coming to see you sooner in the day," he started, collapsing in her armchair. She glanced at her son and smiled; he was fully grown, larger than she had anticipated, yet his actions made him look like a ten year old boy all over again.

"Don't be silly, Connor. We live in the same house, and we eat every meal together. I don't feel neglected. You look tired."

"Dealing with…that man you call your husband and my Father _is_ exhausting," he mumbled. "How _ever_ did you manage to get close enough to create me?"

She chuckled deeply, turning the page. "He was very charming as a young man. I didn't always care for him the way I do now. At first, I wanted to kill him."

"You should have. Then I would have been able to sleep these past two days." Silence grew between them, and he examined the room. Nothing was out of place, but something was different today.

"Where's that servant girl? The one with the green eyes, isn't she always here?"

"Oh, you mean Aveline?" she replied, a twinkle in her eyes that went unnoticed. "She's out in the garden, planting the season flowers." He approached the window, and lo and behold, there she was, kneeling on the ground with a red flower in her hand. He felt his blood turn to ice as he asked, "Has she been out there all day?"

"Since this morning, yes. She must need a break soon. She hasn't stopped since she started. Here," she went into her nightstand and removed a powder blue kerchief, tossing it to her son. "Give it to her, so that she can wipe off her sweat. And tell her to stop and take a drink of water; I'm not a slave driver."

He frowned; he had asked about her, but not so he could _intentionally_ interact with her. But at his mother's request—and his behest—he took the kerchief to the girl.

She had heard him. _Reciting poetry_. Him. A gallant, strapping young man, spouting poetry like a lovesick fool! The fear that he had instilled in her upon their first meeting would come undone, and she would see him for what he really was.

He couldn't allow that. The door leading to the garden had appeared all too quickly before him, and he recollected his thoughts before stepping outside.

The day certainly hadn't turned out the way he assumed. The grey overcast had been broken by the mildly intense rays of the sun, and he found the waistcoat and long-sleeved shirt he was wearing to be a bit stifling.

Just a few feet in front of him was Aveline, whose back was turned to him completely. She was still on her knees, humming gently to herself as she always did as she dug a small hole with her hands. He noticed the muscles in her back ripple under the thin material of her dress, admiring the strength hidden beneath her docile—_wait_.

"My mother insisted that I give you this kerchief," he interrupted his thoughts and her peace simultaneously. He almost assumed she knew he was behind her, what with how calmly she turned to face him.

She hesitated for a moment, studying the eerie calmness of his eyes. It was as if he was trying to shield his thoughts from her, but it only made her wonder what he was hiding.

"Thank you," she took it from him, ignoring the spark that went through her body when his skin touched hers, and immediately patted her forehead. He examined her work, silently admiring her skill.

"I'm surprised Mother trusted you to do this."

"As am I," she sighed. "I have never had a garden of my own, so this is a first for me."

"The way you arranged the flowers—it's reminiscent of something a professional would do."

"I do not think so. Simply put, red does not look good close to pink. They are much too similar," she chuckled. Connor lifted one side of his mouth to form a lopsided grin, and turned to her.

Her eyes were closed, and she was wiping off the sweat that had gathered under the roof of her jaw. He had been trained to know better, but his more base nature coaxed his eyes just a little further, to the slick skin covering her collarbone.

He turned away from her quickly, attempting to banish the thoughts running through his mind about this…_peasant_. She was beneath him, dwelling on a lower rung of society. He had Lilith, his fair maiden of grace and class, who would never in her life have to bend her back under the sun and perform manual labor.

"When I was out here earlier, why did you hide?" he asked pointedly. Aveline opened her eyes and blinked several times, somewhat confused.

"Desolée, monsieur (Sorry, Mister)?" she asked.

"I came outside and you weren't here, not too long ago. You were hiding from me; why?" he demanded. The authoritative tone had returned to his voice, and she felt obliged to reply.

"I-I panicked. I did not mean to eavesdrop."

"If you had made your presence known, I would've gone elsewhere to vent. How much did you hear?"

"I heard you reciting poetry," she fessed. Hissing, he turned from her, fists balled tight. "B-But it is nothing to be ashamed of. It was quite beautiful. You must have written it yourself, because it does not sound like anything familiar."

He scoffed, turning to face her once again. "What would you know?" he asked before disappearing inside, and closing the door firmly behind him.

His words would have stung a bit more if she hadn't expected him to react in such a way. Connor's sentimental side had been revealed to her, and she would never forget that.

.

Aveline was exhausted by the time she reached her bed at the boarding house. It took all of her might not to collapse on her bed and sleep in her work clothes.

She was only partially done with the plot of land; there was still so much to be done, and yet _another_ garden project was under way, and Madame Ziio wanted her assistance with that, as well. If this was a form of special treatment, she'd gladly return to washing dishes and dusting shelves. However, she enjoyed the peace that came with working in solitude, and the calming effect gardening had on her mind and spirit.

Yawning, she went for her personal allotment of soap and her hair brush to bathe until one of her roommates, named Magdalene, stopped her in her tracks.

Magdalene had taken a liking to her, and they had become friends of sorts. She was a spry young woman of twenty five winters, though she acted much younger. It was out of great wonder and surprise that Aveline questioned why she wasn't married to some wealthy governor or duke of some foreign country. She carried thick golden blonde locks that fell in spirals down to her waist, and wide cerulean eyes that reminded her of the ocean on a bright day. And her body was most fitting for carrying children; her high chest could hardly go unnoticed even in the most modest of clothing.

"Aveline, it's not time to go to bed yet! There's still so many hours of dark to expend."

"Magdalene, I am exhausted. I worked in the sun all day. The night is for resting."

"Oh, poppycock!" she dismissed, snatching the younger woman by the arm. Aveline groaned softly, half-dragging her heels. "All I ask is for a little bit of your time at the tavern, just for some ale with Marianne and Catherine."

Aveline thought for a moment; she had just received her wages, and she hadn't had any ale in a while.

"Alright, but just one helping of ale, and that is it."

Magdalene flashed her warm, contagious smile. "Good. Now off we go."

.

**First of all, I am SO sorry for the late update! A lot has been going on, including an ugly cold I had to fight. I've worked all day on this chapter; I hope you guys enjoyed it.**

**As you all can see, Haytham and Connor don't have a healthy relationship in this fanfiction, and we'll get to the bottom of it eventually. I figured he'd be really affectionate and kind with his mother, conversely; he seems like that kind of guy. **

**And my goodness, he's denying the feelings he's getting from being around Aveline like a madman. You guys think it's too soon for one to be attracted to the other?**


	5. Chapter IV

**A/N: Chapter four.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Ubisoft, so please don't take my money.**

**Also: On with the drama and suspense! (And slight fluff!) And we meet a very familiar face! Don't forget to review, please, and tell me what you think.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter IV: Matters of the Heart<strong>

Aveline had never really been one to fare well in loud, crowded, and _smelly_ places. The mixture of sweat, ale, and dust made her slightly dizzy, but each time she tried to step outside to catch her breath, Magdalene was right there to halt her in her tracks and turn her back towards the commotion. There was a lively fiddle playing in the background, but she could hardly hear it over the loud, raucous conversation. She had had her one pint, as she had promised herself, and was just waiting to go back to her room so that she could sleep.

"Ava!" (Magdalene had quickly grown accustomed to calling her that pet name.) She half dragged her feet to where she stood, near the bar. "Catherine here was just telling me that no one has seen Sarai in a few days. Have you seen her?"

Her interest diverted by the overwhelming stench of alcohol, she quickly replied, "No, I have not seen her. Maybe she has a suitor that she stays with from time to time."

"Nonsense!" the blond chortled, and a fresh wave of ale barraged her nostrils. Aveline nearly gagged. "The girl is so plain and spindly, one would mistake her for a boy in the appropriate clothing. But I guess not every man is attracted to a woman like me," she swept her hand over her full form, which was barely clothed with a thin gown that draped low enough to show her cleavage. "Of course, that man would be a fool to refuse me." Her darker companion said nothing in return, and delved into her thoughts.

How had her sister thrived with such people? Perhaps she was too much of a prude, as Hélène had pointed out on several occasions. When they would go and associate with other young ones, she would refuse to dance with each and every man that made a proposal, and wasn't too fond of drinking. Honestly, she hated alcohol, and the raw, bitter aftertaste it left on her tongue. Her older sibling was always able to tell she wasn't comfortable, and preferred to be at home, reading a book, or something less...social.

"Aveline? What are you doing here?" a familiar voice asked.

She turned to face Gerald, whom she was more than pleased to see. "Gerald, what are you doing here?" She was quite surprised that a man of his quiet, pleasant nature would set foot in a tavern.

"This is where most manservants and maidservants go almost every night. They owe it to themselves, to relax and enjoy their evening before returning to work tomorrow morning." She hadn't thought about it like that. "You don't seem like the kind of woman to venture in here," he denoted with surprise. "One of your roommates dragged you down here."

"Yes. She _insisted_ that I have at least one drink tonight, and I have had it. I am ready to rest for the night. Madame Ziio wants me to keep working on the garden."

He grimaced slightly. "It's hard work, but you get some solitude, at least. If I may, would it be too much for us to have at least one dance? The fiddler will be retiring for the night soon, and I don't want your first experience in an English tavern to be terrible."

She thought about it for a moment, then nodded her head. He smiled, "Bon (Good). Shall we?" he asked, extending his hand. She took it, and the amount of strength behind his slight form took her by surprise.

He led her to the center of the floor, where others had already begun dancing, the males twirling their female counterparts in circles. Gerald differed little in their dance pattern, and she found her vision became a blur as he spun her around twice before dipping her back and helping her upright. The suddenness made her head feel like it was full of air, and she giggled. The ale was getting to her.

He quickly traded her for another, and Aveline gasped in surprise. "G'day, madam," her new partner greeted her before twirling her several times, then led her down a line of clapping onlookers. Her face hurt so much from smiling and laughing, and each time she attempted to sit down, someone was there to take her away to the dance floor.

Aveline now understood why Hélène liked to go out at night.

.

"Did you and my sister get along?" Aveline asked. The tavern had closed, and as he had promised to do every night, he would see to it that she got home safely. Catherine and Elizabeth had turned in some time ago and had walked home together. Magdalene, however, had disappeared to the tavern's upstairs with a dark-haired fellow and shut the door to what appeared to be a bedroom.

"Yes, we got along quite well. She's quite a spirited young woman, and she rarely ever backed down from an insult. In some ways, she mirrors Madame Ziio in her tenacity for righting the wrong that she sees."

"That is my sister, most definitely," she sighed. Her heart fluttered a little, and a pregnant silence fell between them.

"That is why it was so unusual when she ran away. No one was expecting to find her bed neatly arranged, and all her belongings missing. She seemed to be enjoying her life here, but I guess appearances can be deceiving. I only hope that wherever she is, she's alright. This is no place to be alone as a woman, with nowhere to live and no family to take you in. And she is a beautiful young woman; an opportunist will not hesitate."

Aveline had tried not to think of all the possibilities that could have fallen upon Hélène, but she had to be realistic with herself so as not to be disappointed with the truth. This conversation with Gerald was helping her to come to terms with the fact that, it was a possibility, that her sister had fallen into the hands of an indecent citizen of London. Yet, the neatly organized bed and disappearance of her belongings proved otherwise; she intended to leave, but why?

"Aveline...if you ever find that you are unhappy here, please do let me know before you go running off. I wouldn't want anything bad to happen to you," he said softly.

They both stopped and turned to one another; the softness of his tone surprised her. If she wasn't mistaken, his eyes had taken on a warm, molten glow as well. He had never looked at her that way; she turned her head and continued to walk. The skin of her ears began to heat, and she found herself wishing that she was already at home in her bed.

.

Gerald hadn't followed her inside, but Aveline didn't remember changing her clothes and crawling underneath her covers. But that was where she found herself the next morning.

Everyone else had gone off to work already, their beds neatly made up and vacant. However, Magdalene's bed was still unkempt, exactly as it had been before they went to the tavern for drinks.

_I guess she went home with that dark-haired fellow. I hope she's alright_ she thought as she got to her feet. After she got dressed, she stepped out into the streets, surprised to find that the sun was beaming down quite nicely, illuminating the streets with a golden yellow glow.

The Kenway mansion greeted her with its looming, gothic exterior before she stepped inside to the usual commotion inside the modest estate. However, an unfamiliar voice coming from the study piqued her interest, and she went to take a quick look before getting to work.

"...disappeared for a while. I was worried..." Master Haytham's voice was immediately recognizable.

"...went back to America for a while. All this overcast was..." The voice was old, riddled with wisdom and years of experience.

"Aveline!" Gerald hissed, causing her to jump. She whirled around to face him. "Don't you remember what happened the last time you were sneaking around?" He placed his hand on the small of her back (much to her dismay), and escorted her towards the stairs. "I'm sure Madame Ziio needs you for something. Don't let your curiosity get the best of you."

"Thank you, Gerald," she said quickly. He had never been so familiar with her; this less formal side of him was beginning to make her uncomfortable. Or perhaps her mind was playing tricks on her; he was a kind man with a gentle soul. He'd never intentionally try to make her uncomfortable.

When she reached Madame Ziio's room, she was once again sitting in her armchair, looking out the window. Today, she was wearing a pale yellow gown that emphasized the deep mahogany tone of her skin.

"I really do appreciate the hard work you've been putting in, Aveline. The garden looks beautiful so far."

"T-Thank you, Madame Ziio," she stammered, surprised. "I honestly do not think that my work in the garden is all that praiseworthy."

The Native woman looked her dead in the eyes. "Nonsense, child. My other gardener knew nothing about color. She put red next to pink, and orange next to blue. You have an eye for aesthetic appeal." She looked back towards the flora outside her window. "My son shares the same sentiments as I do, though he doesn't voice them to you personally."

_Of course not. He is never kind to me, so a compliment is not something I'd expect. _"He did comment on the arrangements briefly. But then he resorted back to insults; we do not get along, and I do not think we ever will."

"Connor can be a silly child at times. I don't condone his behavior, but you are the only woman he treats in such a way. The other maids, he simply chooses to ignore them."

Aveline found herself growing irritated, reminiscing to all the times he laughed at her when she tried to read English while in the main study. "I do not know why he chooses to harass me, and me alone. Sometimes I wonder if he is a grown man at all."

His mother chuckled. "Perhaps it's because he knows he can elicit a reaction other than flirtatious glances from you. Already, you are visibly agitated by even the thought of him."

"Because he is so childish," she stressed. "He walks around the mansion, waiting for me to do something, anything, only to laugh at me, like I am a court jester."

"He will grow tired of his antics soon enough. Maybe patience is a quality you haven't tested yet. Would you mind bringing up a pot of hot tea?"

"Right away." She exited the room, exhaling softly. Exactly _when _would that day come when Connor would return to treating her like thin air? A few more instances like the last, and she would smash a pot of hot water on his head.

As she looked up from her feet as she descended the stairs, she halted, studying the mysterious person standing in the middle of the foyer. By the looks of him, he was an older man, what with the way he was slightly hunched over.

He must've sensed her presence, and turned to greet her as she reached the first floor.

"Ah, what have we here?" His accent was quite strange, not like Master Haytham's, Madame Ziio's, or Connor's. "A _brown_ maidservant. All the others are quite fair. You are a rarity, indeed. And quite beautiful." She rouged under his gaze. "My name is Achilles Davenport. I'm here for Connor; I'm his fencing and archery trainer. Have you seen him today?"

"No. I believe he is still in his room."

"Would you please go and fetch him? We were supposed to start earlier this morning. He's probably sleeping in again, as usual," he sighed, shaking his head.

"Yes, sir."

"Call me Achilles, dear. You are much too regal in appearance to refer to me as 'sir'."

She smiled, and quickly went on her way. He was a kind older man, and she was quite surprised to meet another person with similar ancestry to her own.

Aveline ascended the stairs and knocked twice on Connor's door at the end of the hall. He failed to respond, and so she opened the ajar door.

A few of his decorative pillows were strewn across the floor surrounding his bed, and his comforter was sweeping the floor. His heavy breathing drew her attention to the mass in the middle of the bed and she neared him to wake him up.

"Monsieur Connor," she called out softly. He didn't move. She neared him, her knees touching the edge of his bed. He was resting on his back, one arm under his head and the other on his stomach. "Monsieur," she tried again, this time touching his bare forearm. His eyes snapped open instantaneously, and he sat up. Aveline regretted not looking away.

When she was a little girl, she hadn't thought much of the male anatomy. Being waif and such a slip of a child, she saw no difference between herself and the boys her age. However, as time went on, she noticed that she developed an...interesting pair of assets, while her male friends sprouted facial hair and grew out of their clothes very quickly.

However, whether she and Connor got along or not, she couldn't help but continue to stare at his bare chest. He was...perfect. It was not quite like anything she had seen, and he was not hers to claim, thus she was not privileged to admire him. But, he didn't seem to mind as he watched the servant girl halt in her thinking altogether. The poor thing had never seen a man's bare chest, and now she was fixated upon it.

"What are you doing in here?" he demanded. "I was sleeping." His irritated tone of voice snapped her out of her trance. He got to his feet and brushed past her to open the curtains, the muscles in his back flexing as he did so.

"Y-Your teacher, Achilles, is waiting for you downstairs," she replied meekly, looking away. He moved to his wardrobe and stretched; she watched as the muscles in his back flexed again and rippled under his tanned skin, unable to look away. Perhaps if she had spent more time with her sister, out on the streets, she would've been more prepared for such a situation.

"Tell him I'll be down shortly," he replied, turning ever so slightly towards her, "unless you would like to stay here and continue to gaze at me a little longer," he smirked.

"No," she replied firmly. He had done all of this on purpose. "I have work to do." Turning on her heels, she stormed out of his room just as he let out a spine-chilling chuckle.

_The nerve of that...that scoundrel! He wanted me to see him without a shirt. Such erroneous behavior, and he has an intended already. Does he not truly care about Lilith?_ she thought. Achilles was still waiting in the foyer; a smile graced his face when he saw her.

"He will be downstairs shortly," she informed him curtly. His smile faltered, "What happened?"

"Connor is one of the most _infuriating_ men I have ever encountered. Forgive me for speaking so ill of your student."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Connor is...one of my most hard-headed pupils, so you are not wrong in expressing frustration over his actions. Sometimes I wonder if he truly is a grown man, and not an oversized child. One day, he will finally mature, but whether it is in my lifetime or not, I don't know," he jested. "Thank you, Aveline."

Bowing slightly, she headed for the kitchen and retrieved a pot of hot tea, and returned to Madame Ziio. Thankfully, it appeared that Connor had already left his room.

"Thank you, Aveline. But you sure did take your time."

"I am sorry, Madame Ziio. Achilles needed me to wake Connor."

"And?" she pressed in an amused tone, her dark eyes glistening with interest.

A brief glimpse of what she had seen entered her thoughts instantaneously, and she mildly shook her head. "Nothing. Connor was rude, as usual. I will get back to the garden."

She turned to leave, and the Native woman spoke again, "When a man is uncertain of his feelings for a woman, he will not always treat her properly. Confusing as it may seem, it is true in many cases. Do not assume Connor is any different."

As uncomfortable as she felt as she weighed those words in her head, she knew Madame Ziio was right.

She just wished that this one time was an exception.

.

"You've lost some of your skill, Connor. Spending too much time away from home?" Achilles had set up the archery pillar a short distance across from the fountain, so as to give Aveline working room in the garden.

"No, Achilles. My daily life is full of so much, that I must prioritize. Archery and fencing aren't at the top of the list." The more they talked, the less he could concentrate. So whenever the old man brought up some failing of some sort, or a past mishap, he found his temper rising, and his countenance falling simultaneously.

"Women, food, and drink surely are _far_ more important than learning self-control, discipline, and focus," his teacher replied with sarcasm. "Such a lax view of life is so common among the wealthy. It should be considered a disease, really."

Exhaling loudly through his nostrils, Connor released the arrow he had been holding, and it missed the target, embedding in the wooden pole rather than the red and white cloth. "Achilles, how can I concentrate if you are constantly in my ear, like a housefly?" he growled.

"My boy, if such a small distraction as my voice causes your skill to slacken, then gunshots and screaming would deem you useless in a time of war. I couldn't afford to be distracted by something as minor as a few _remarks. _Get another arrow and try again. I'll stay silent this time."

"Thank you." He picked up another arrow and placed it on his bow to take aim. He had his eye fixed on the target, but a quiet hum pricked his sense of hearing.

"_C'est dans mon coeur, l'heurese de ton amour..." _It was Aveline; his gaze caught the hem of her grey skirts behind the fountain, swaying in the gentle breeze. Her face was obscured from view, yet the sound of Achilles clearing his throat caused him to quickly refocus and release the arrow. This time, it hit the target directly in its center.

"Perfect. Now put down your bow, and we'll warm up for your fencing lesson." Connor set it down in its case; his eyes were still fixed on the grey skirt, and as she stood to wipe her forehead, his eyes fell on her face. Aveline turned in his direction, and he quickly looked away.

"Remember, the intention of the warm up is to prepare your body, not to land blows. Exercise self-control." Achilles took his stance, and Connor did the same. The green-eyed servant girl passed by again, this time with flowers in her hands, and his eyes followed her. She didn't dare look up, and a small part of him was disappointed.

"Keep your eyes focused on your target, Connor," Achilles warned, just before extending his fist towards his face. He nearly landed the mark, but being a younger man had its advantages.

They kept their volleys light and slow, until Achilles' pace urged him to pay more attention to their spar. In between punches, the Native kept looking in Aveline's direction. She was standing again, wiping the sweat from her chest, and he slowed in his movements.

Caught unawares, Achilles' open palm collided with his temple, jarring him slightly. "When you're in a fistfight, any little distraction could cost you a vital move. Stop daydreaming, and focus."

Huffing, Connor righted his position, and they began again, this time his fists a bit more aggressive. Finally, he caught the older man off guard, and grabbed his arm, twisting it behind his back. He was getting closer and closer to making Achilles give into his compromised position, until he heard a soft voice some distance away.

Aveline was in the middle of stretching out her back, with her arms suspended above her head and her chest lifted towards the air. His heart wrenched, and his muscles locked in place as she smoothed her sides with her hands.

"...Connor, you win!" Finally, he heard the pleas of his mentor, and he let him go. His mentor turned to him, rubbing his shoulder. "It seems you're distracted by _many_ things, including young maids," his eyes flitted to Aveline, who had resumed her gardening. She didn't seem to notice them at all. "And what is to become of you and Lilith?"

"That _peasant_ is nothing more than a temptress. Any attention I give to her will not lead to anything. Lilith is a proper form of distraction for the time being."

"'For the time being'? My boy, women aren't like trousers; once they no longer fit, they can be cast aside. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. If you intend to marry Lilith, then do so in a proper manner and in proper time, or your parents and friends will begin to suspect something is awry."

"Suddenly my romantic life is of your concern? I wonder, is there something in the tea that you've been drinking?" the younger man asked.

"I was once a young man, even if that's hard to believe. But I also had the same problem: so many women in my life at once, society pressuring me to shun one and praise the other."

Connor gritted his teeth together. "_Listen_, Achilles, and listen carefully. I am _not_ drawn to that servant girl. She is a street rat from Paris, and working as a maid was her only option, aside from prostituting herself to make a living. She does not come from any means, and any attention _she_ gives _me_ is suspicious. They are all alike, trying to seduce noblemen to gain access to his money and his assets. Aveline is no different."

"Oh, she's _Aveline_ now? I thought she was just a peasant to you."

Annoyed, Connor snatched up his waistcoat, and glared at his instructor. "This means _nothing_. She is _nothing_." He rushed inside and slammed the door behind him.

Just a few minutes later, as Achilles was putting away their training equipment, Aveline appeared, her head slightly downcast. He already knew why she was in a somber mood. "Connor is a fool. Pay him no mind."

"He may be a fool, but that doesn't mean what he said isn't true. I _would_ be selling my body, night and day, to keep food in my stomach and a roof over my head if it weren't for this assignment. And I am a poor woman from Paris, with nothing but a few dresses and a smart mouth."

"Very rarely do people see the value in the most simplest of things. Money, mansions, and a lot of wine, that is what they value." Tenderly, he lifted her chin with his hand. "Daughter, do not let him, his family, or his friends take your dignity away from you. You are beautiful, and I see the strength of character behind your demure appearance. Use it."

Aveline looked up into his kind brown eyes and smiled. "Thank you. Although I do not know you, you are very kind."

"I do not wish a life of servitude on anyone, especially when they have the potential to do more. You possess more value than any of those rich snobs," he said with a grin. "Now run along, before they come looking for you."

At once, she went inside to inquire about Madame Ziio, and found her still in her armchair, this time embroidering what looked like the skirt of a dress. "Achilles seems to have a liking towards you."

"He's a very kind man. I wish Connor would speak to him with more respect."

"That's how they've always gotten along, bickering and arguing. Achilles doesn't seem to mind, since he feels liberal enough to call him names, and such. Haytham and Achilles are good friends, so we know he means no harm."

A soft knock interrupted their conversation, and Aveline opened the door. Lilith stood there, tall and indifferent, not blinking once.

"Is Madame Ziio up for company?" she asked.

"Yes." She stepped aside and the pale woman into the room. Ziio's pleasant demeanor stiffened a little at the sight of her, and Aveline smirked.

"Lilith, you've come to see me," she stated in a disinterested tone.

"Yes. I felt it only appropriate that I come to see you more often. We should grow more accustomed to one another's company."

"And what makes you feel that way?"

"Connor and I, our relationship is far from platonic. We see one another every day, and we have great affection for one another. It is only a matter of time before he asks for my hand, and you will be my mother-in-law."

"While that possibility is of legitimate concern, Lilith, it is not guaranteed. You are treading in murky water, my child."

"And what does that mean?"

"Men are like shadows at times. They are ever present, ever ready, and in the next instance, they are gone. While I love my son to death, I also know him far better than you do."

"Connor is a serious man. He would never dawdle with a woman such as myself, but perhaps a woman of...lesser means," she glanced quickly at Aveline, who rolled her eyes internally.

"I am not trying to deter you from pursuing a serious relationship with my son, but I am warning you to be cautious. Money is just a mask for impure intentions."

Lilith seemed to be finished with the conversation (seeing how uncomfortable she seemed to grow with each statement that Madame Ziio made), and turned her sights to Aveline.

Her pale blue eyes were bewitching, but she was far from afraid of this wasp of a woman.

"Now that I have a clear view of you, I see why a man would be quite taken with you. Your ancestry would make a man curious, but unfortunately, your economic status does not. I'm sure quite a few suitors would be lined up asking for your hand if you were of some means."

"That is unfortunate, that a man must have promise of high regard and admiration, rather than being content with just the love of a woman, to influence his decisions."

"Poor child, you know so little about the realities that every woman must accept and understand. Love is just a children's rhyme," Lilith remarked. "But that is something I wouldn't expect you to know." She returned her attention to Ziio. "I must be leaving now. Farewell." She left as quickly as she had come, and Ziio exhaled in relief.

"I surely do hope Connor does not marry that girl. I would be cursed with her presence for the rest of my life, her and her children."

Aveline remained silent, mulling over Lilith's final words. _If not for love, then why marry at all?_ _Why must money influence who a man chooses to marry?_

"Do not seriously consider her words; they are empty and hollow, much like her heart. She is a drone of this city's creed, and my son is not. There is a letter for you, in my nightstand drawer. You may go home for the evening."

Aveline wondered who it could possibly have come from as she opened the drawer.

However, the longhand was immediately recognizable, and that is what made her entire body tremble from head to toe.

* * *

><p><strong>Another successful chapter! And more Connorline tension and fluff. I hope you guys are enjoying their confrontations.<strong>

**If you guys are wondering why Achilles is able to spar with Connor, it's because he's much younger than he was in ACIII. This is an AU, so I'm working this to my advantage. Just to get the ages right, here they are: Connor, 27; Aveline, 22; Haytham, 53; Ziio, 52; Achilles, 55; Lilith, 25.**

**What do you guys think of everyone's portrayal? Are they in character?**

**Anyone want to take a guess as to who wrote the letter? We'll find out in the next chapter, anyway.**

**Cheers.**


	6. Chapter V

**A/N: I'm so sorry for the long wait! My computer died, then I got it fixed, then the internet stopped working, and now it's fixed again. Me and my tech problems…anyway, on with the story.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Ubisoft, so please don't take my money.**

**Chapter V: Disconcerting Thoughts**

Aveline knew she was being absent-minded in her duties, but it didn't seem to concern the others around her; therefore, it didn't concern her, either.

She had had no leads as to where to look or where to start her hunt for her sister—until the day before, when she received that letter.

When she returned to her bed, and had bathed, she read the fine, black script on the stiff piece of paper over and over again. She could hardly believe her sister had written her.

"_Chère Aveline, _

_London is so different from Paris. The people here are very formal and rigid, crisp like the harsh cold that is forever present here. I wonder if they have a torturous summer, like we used to have at home. I guess if I live here long enough, I will eventually find out. _

_I found a job working for a very rich family in the heart of London's most exclusive division—they are the Kenways. I've learned that the Master's father was a very successful sea faring man, and invested in creating his own shipbuilding business, since he loved the sea so much. Haytham is my Master's name, and he's quite a handsome man for his age, though he has an air about him—it must be his prestige. His wife is not like all of the fairer women—she is actually quite dark, when standing next to her husband. But she is beautiful, nonetheless. I've never seen someone who looks like her; she must not be native to this country._

_And their son—oh, you would detest him so. He's quite spoiled, and very self-assured. Day in and day out, he rattles on and on about nothing, so I ignore him entirely, and he does the same._

_You must be wondering where I live, yes? The government is kind enough to provide public housing for all of the young women, immigrant or not, so that they have somewhere to lay their head every night and not have to worry about some street rat doing us harm. Paris should have something like this for all of the abandoned young women on the street._

_I've befriended a few of the other women. A woman from a country called India named Neha has been very kind to me, and is almost motherly towards me. Since Maman has been gone for some time, the attention is unexpected but welcome._

_What I have found strange, however, is that three women have disappeared since I first arrived. Their beds are neatly made, and have remained that way for some time. I asked the Warden of the building what happened to them, and he claimed that they had found somewhere else to live, and that their beds were available for use. He was quite short with me, as if he didn't want to speak about it at all, so I left it alone. But I can't help but think about those three women every night, wondering if they really were somewhere safe. I didn't want to keep asking him and risk my own expulsion from the public housing, and I don't know if anyone else is willing to speak about it. So I must keep this concern to myself._

_I've decided to enter the government's program for citizenship eligibility so that I may escape dying as an old maid. There are so many immigrants entering this same initiative, but I have heard that only the most intelligent are being granted permanent residence here. Papa never made sure to give us a formal education, but I do hope that what I have learned over the years will help._

_Try not to worry about me, little Ava. Life here is different, but not difficult. I will adapt quickly, and when I'm able to take care of myself well enough to send for you, I promise that I will. I love you._

_Hélène"_

Aveline didn't remember how many times she cried that night, or for how long.

Her sister was alive.

She was in the middle of dusting Ziio's window sills when the Native noticed that she had a faraway look on her face.

"Is everything alright, Aveline?" she asked.

Interrupted by the sound of Ziio's voice, Aveline snapped back to her task at hand. "I-I am sorry, mademoiselle. I am…thinking about my sister. She wrote to me."

"Hélène? Where is she? I've been wondering where she's gone for some time now."

"I do not know. She did not say in her letter."

Ziio remained silent for a moment, staring hard at the ground. "Well, this is no reason to think harm has come upon her. Perhaps she hasn't found a suitable place to live yet. Your sister was a very intelligent woman; she never failed to notice the detail in a situation, no matter how small it was. My son was intimidated by her, not only because of her stature but because of her hardened determination to stay true to herself. He avoided her like the plague most days."

Aveline smiled warmly; that could be part of the reason why he held some sort of resentment towards her.

"She also liked to read. I often caught her in the main study reading my husband's old literature. I don't remember their names, but you're certain to take them home with you, if you wish. Just remember to bring them back at some point."

She turned to the older woman, "Madamoiselle, thank you. She and I didn't always see eye to eye, but we did have a common fondness for literature."

"I remember her speaking about you, Aveline. She would refer to her little sister every day, about how she liked playing with the farm animals and read books she could hardly understand. I can tell she looked after you very closely."

Aveline felt something warm burning behind her eyes, and she wiped at nonexistent tears. "Yes, she did. I must find her, or at least hope that she will return soon."

"What Haytham used to say often, is 'Have faith, my dear'."

.

Before leaving for the public housing, Aveline visited the main library, and stuck _Romeo and Juliet_ in her bag, as well as _Echo and Narcissus_. She realized she had a penchant for tragic romances, despite not having experienced that herself.

Once she was at home and settled in the bed, she read for several hours, and hadn't even noticed that she had fallen asleep until she heard the rooster crow outside her window in the distance.

Aveline dressed quickly and arrived at the Kenway estate not any more than an hour after her awakening. The servants were still in the kitchen, eating their small breakfast of a cup of tea and a biscuit. Gerald arrived not too much later than she and gave her a bright smile. She returned a less than extraordinary one, and shyly turned away from him as she went to replace her shawl in the adjacent closet.

Ever since the way he looked at her had changed, she had been making it a point to avoid long conversations with him, and avoided being alone with him anywhere. His presence made her heart behave like a skittish colt, and her thoughts immediately retreated to Connor. Why, she did not know; her heart was betraying her in so many ways, it was best for her to not be around either of them.

"Aveline, would you like to know more about where I came from?" Ziio asked while she was braiding her hair.

"…Yes, I would love to. I am sure what I have heard about Natives is wrong."

"What have you heard?"

"Some have said that the men are mean and heartless. They take the scalps of their prisoners and rape the female colonists so that no White man would want them. And they said that the women walk around naked and go from tent to tent to sleep with different men."

Ziio chuckled, and Aveline was quite bewildered by her reaction. She was expecting her to insult them right back. "They're ignorant fools, too base to see past their own way of life and understand another. The Kanienke:haka are very peaceful people, and we have great respect for the elderly and the animals. We hunt only when necessary, and we don't waste anything. We believe that a successful hunt is a gift from our Creator, and we always thank Him for being able to live."  
>"Back home, the rich hunt for sport, to put the heads of innocent animals on their walls and on the floor as fancy rugs. I never thought that it was fair, to mistreat the animals in such a way."<p>

"You would be a soul accepting to my people. Rarely, if ever, do they bring harm to someone who doesn't desire to bring harm upon them."

"What does your language sound like?"

"It is not like English or French at all. I can teach you some basic words."

"A-Alright."

Connor was on his way to an outing with his friends when he decided to pay a short visit to his mother, but hesitated when he heard two distinct voices in conversation.

His mother kept saying 'My name is' in their native tongue, and the other voice—which he soon learned was Aveline's—would say it awkwardly, slowly. Ziio chuckled, and said it again.

Mortified, he wrinkled his nose in disgust and stormed away.

.

"So your mother is teaching the French girl your native tongue? Interesting." Connor and Bernard had grown accustomed to taking a brief walk through the park that bordered the Thames river. Even on a crisp, cool afternoon, there were others casually strolling through as well.

"My mother has never taken this much interest in any other maid, Bernard—and _her_ of all people! She's tried to make a fool of me, and she has disrespected Lilith more than once. If it weren't for my mother's protection, I'd have had her removed from our estate at the first instance." Connor picked up a rock and hurled it, watching it plop and sink into the Thames.

"Well, she is…_different_."

"Yes, yes, she is darker in complexion, but she is still _not_ one of _us_."

"Not that, Connor. Your mother feels sorry for women like her: largely unaccepted as an equal, trapped in a world where no one understands her. So while you may not like it, your mother is seeking comfort in someone other than you."

"And why would she? My father is trapped in his own world, and the other women talk about her behind her back; I am all that she has that reminds her of her true home, not Aveline."

"You sound quite possessive of your mother."

"She has escaped death twice, and each incident has only brought us closer together as mother and son. One sniveling little street rat is _not_ going to drive a wedge between she and I."

.

After nearly two hours of trying to learn _three_ simple sentences in Kanienke:haka, Ziio dismissed Aveline to eat her very late midday meal.

_I did not think learning a few simple sentences in a different language could be so hard_ she thought, biting into a piece of freshly baked water fowl. She had decided to eat in solitude, in the main study. _Well, English was difficult to grasp at first, too…Thank goodness Ziio is being patient with me._

She had failed to hear the approaching footsteps, so when the doors swung open, she jumped. Her heart thudded loudly in her chest when she realized that Connor had a very hard, infuriated look on his face. As he approached her, she got to her feet, wondering what on earth she had done to upset him so.

Before she could assess what he was going to do, he had already grabbed her by her waist. She was expecting pain, but it was actually quite gentle, yet firm. The gesture made her skin tingle, but what was more important was the fire in his molten eyes.

"What have I done?" she asked.

"Why are you learning my people's tongue?" he demanded. "You aren't required to do so."

"Your mother—she asked if I wanted to, so I said yes."

He pressed further; her response only seemed to make him more upset. "You haven't answered my question: _why_ are you learning our language? To become one of us?"

"I know I will never be one of your people; I simply wish to understand your mother better—and in turn, understand you better, as well."

The passionate glow in his eye dissipated instantly, and his face softened. They stared at one another for what felt like an eternity, and she felt their beings drawing closer. Whether it was his doing, or the both of them, Aveline didn't know, but once he realized that he had been holding her for too long, he let her go.

"I do not need your sympathy, and neither does she."

"Connor, I—"

"Say no more," he cut her off quickly, and nearly ran out of the library.

Author's Note: I'm SO sorry for this very late update. I started a new job, and it made me reorganize my schedule from the bottom up. And I apologize for the shortness of it; I figured I should cut it off here, and work on a longer chapter next, so that you guys wouldn't have to wait another couple of weeks.

This is the part of the story where we delve more into Helene's recent history leading up to her disappearance, and we're seeing the effect of Aveline being in Connor's life. At some point, she and Lilith will clash, but that's a juicy story arc for later discussion.


	7. Chapter VI

**A/N: Here's chapter six!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Ubisoft, so please don't take my money.**

**Chapter VI: Metamorphosis **

Aveline took her time returning to Madame Ziio. Her encounter with Connor had been most confusing—and insightful, as well.

He moved and acted with aggressive haste, as if he had wanted to do her more harm than good. Yet, he was gentle in his handling of her; such a quick transition had bewildered her.

He sounded quite upset with her, and just when she thought he would have snapped her in two like a twig, his countenance softened, and he gazed deep into her eyes. She didn't know what he was searching for, but whatever he discovered there—he didn't like it one bit, and so he let her go.

Perhaps, he once thought she wanted to be one of their people, to identify with _someone_ in this cold society, rather than no one at all.

_And then…_she thought, pausing in her steps to clutch at the material that covered her thudding heart. _He moved as if he wanted to kiss me. _She felt it; the wisps of his breath tickling her nose. Why she didn't listen to her inner voice telling her to run far away from him, she didn't know. Something had rooted her to the spot on the dense carpet floor.

By the time she reached Madame Ziio's room, her chest felt tight, as if it were full of air begging to be released.

"Are you alright, Aveline? You look ill," the Native woman remarked with concern.

She returned to the moment, fumbling through her mind for an excuse, "Y-yes, I am fine. I think I took the stairs too quickly, and made myself lightheaded."

"Be more careful next time. I can't have you fainting all around the mansion."

Aveline chuckled, relieving some of the pressure in her rib cage. "I would hope it doesn't come to that."

"It won't, I promise. I've asked that you be allowed to accompany us to the Adams estate this evening. Haytham has agreed to let you come along as my handmaiden. You'll need to change out of that drab grey thing you're wearing right now; I won't tolerate you looking like a lowly slave any longer. Go to my wardrobe and remove that orange colored dress. You'll be wearing that tonight."

Aveline did as she requested, and removed the peach colored gown from the wooden chest. It was simple in design, but very tasteful, with satin ribbon laced through the bodice to make a small, neat bow at the bosom.

"Madame, surely you don't want me to wear this. This would look much better on you."

"Nonsense. I'm much too old to wear that. It's appropriate for a young, fresh form like yours. Now go change."

Without a word, she headed to the wash room, and began to change as soon as she closed the door.

It was strange, for her to accept such a gift. No one else had given her such a garb for free; she had to pay for everything she had owned, unless she had discovered a discarded article of clothing in the alley.

It fit so perfectly, she wanted to cry. Thankfully, she was not forced to have her cleavage exposed to the air and to lustful eyes; Ziio didn't strike her as that type of woman.

When she returned to the older woman, Ziio had assumed that something had happened, and a look of worry crossed her features.

"What happened?"

"N-Nothing, Madame. It's just that…this dress. I don't deserve it. I'm not nobility, nor am I your daughter," her voice was thick with tears as she approached her slowly. "Why are you being so kind to me?"

"Because you are more than your beauty. Your sister told me what you had to endure growing up in Paris. A woman with lesser spirit would have resorted to using her body to escape poverty. You think you are not smart, but a formal education does not dictate sensibility. Money and social status do not dictate your worth. One simple dress does not define who you are; it is a gift. Accept it, and wear it as often as you'd like."

Aveline gently fell to her knees, and rested her head on the Native woman's lap. Somehow, she knew it was safe to do so. The warm hand that rubbed gentle circles on her back was unexpected, but very much so accepted—no, _needed_. With her mother gone, such affection was entirely absent, and therefore, she craved it. She didn't care if it sounded selfish; if this woman, who was not her mother, and had not raised her, was willing to take her under her wing and treat her as such, she would enjoy every moment of it.

.

Hi guys! Sorry for such a late and very much deserved update. Thank you all for your patience (I'm pretty sure you all were busy doing other things and not just waiting for the next chapter to pop up). What seems to work better for me is to release the chapters in parts. So from now on, the chapters look like they're going to be in two parts. This is part one of chapter six. Part two will take much less time to finish.

Any questions, suggestions, or points to consider for the next chapter, or something you'd personally like to see in the story, please do PM me. Until next time.


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